


The Only Cure is...

by sarahcakes613



Series: Westeros in the 90's [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Jon is like totally a sk8er boi, Sandor has great taste in music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:37:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7567492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa doesn't know what to expect when she responds to an ad, but she's pretty sure that wasn't it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Cure is...

 

 

The flyer catches Sansa’s eye as she makes her way out of the library, backpack weighed down with books to help her with her history homework. As if anyone cares about some musty old wars, but whatever!

The flyer is advertising a like-new skateboard, the same make and model as the one Clyde Singleton uses in all of his videos. Sansa has never watched these videos, but she knows Jon hoards his copies, scratchy blue tinted blurry images that come to him third hand from other skaters. He’s been complaining recently about his current wheels, how they run too slowly, and he can’t replace them, as he is saving up for first and last months rent on his own place. She can’t wait to have a boyfriend who has his _own apartment_. It will be so romantic.

She carefully tears off one of the little phone number tags and tucks it into her pocket. She will call tonight and hopefully whoever is selling it will be okay with her stopping by after school tomorrow.

After dinner, Sansa removes the bit of paper, smooths it out, and punches the number into her clamshell telephone. She and Arya have both been begging their parents for a second houseline, but no luck yet. Her mother tells them they are lucky to even have a phone in their room. She twirls the cord around her fingers as the phone rings and then a gruff voice on the other end answers. She can hear loud music in the background, and a muffled curse, before the music is gone and she can hear the voice clearly.

“So, um, hi. I’m calling about the skateboard you’re selling?” Her voice goes up at the end, there was no name on the flyer so she doesn’t know who to ask for.

“Yeah, what about it?”

She wrinkles her nose. He sounds bored. “Is it still available? I have a free hour tomorrow after school, if I could come get it?”

“Yeah, it’s still here.” He gives her his address and tells her twice not to be late, he has shit to do. She shakes her head as she hangs up. Some people are so rude. Sandor – she asks him his name just before they hang up – does not sound like a man interested in small talk. She looks at her phone. She bets Sandor’s phone is a boring old green one, bolted to the wall in his kitchen.

Sansa is running late. She skips down the stairs of Baelor High, humming to herself. She loves the new song that’s playing nonstop on the radio, it’s all about girl power and friendship, and it’s _super_ catchy. She has carefully written down directions to Sandor’s apartment and she looks at these now as she heads out of the Holdfast neighbourhood down into Flea Bottom. Flea Bottom used to be a really crummy area but gentrification is slowly occurring, and now it is a middle-class neighbourhood. Sandor’s directions lead her to a aged but well-kept townhouse that has been split into apartments. His is the lower level suite. She can hear music, so he is definitely home. She rings the doorbell twice, but the music must be too loud, so she tries the doorknob. It turns, and she cautiously nudges the door open. The sight in front of her makes her squeak, and he turns around in alarm.

He’s a giant. There’s really no other way to describe him. He is nearly 7 feet tall, and he has long black hair that he has styled in a way that adds at least another foot to his height. And he appears to be wearing lipstick. Oh, and he’s glaring at her.

“Um, I’m so sorry? Like, I got out of class on time but then I was talking to my friends and kind of lost track?” She winces inwardly at her tone of voice. He hasn’t stopped glaring at her. She reaches into her bag and pulls out the small envelope of cash she has prepared. She shoves it in his direction, but he makes no move towards her, so she hurriedly puts it down on the table by his front door. There is the skateboard leaning up against the wall, so she moves to pick it up, when the giant finally speaks.

“If you ever fucking tell anyone you saw me like this,” he threatens, and Sansa hastens to reassure him. “I won’t, I swear I won’t. Um, enjoy whatever it is you’re doing.” She waves to indicate his makeup and hair. Clutching the skateboard, she backs out of the house and then turns and runs down the street, face burning with embarrassment for both herself and the man she has left behind. If she listens closely, she can hear a gruff voice singing along to the opening chords of Friday I’m in Love.


End file.
